What If?
by Miss Watzername
Summary: What if Neville was braver? What if Draco was nicer? What if Harry was more like his father than he thought? Don't be all 'Aint nobody got time for that' Read and find out. Or I'll sic my dog on you. Who'll attack you with his cuteness. No, seriously, read it. Please?
1. Chapter 1

**_Hola people! I appreciate you taking the time to check out my fanfic! The second chapter should be up soon._**

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It was a nice, sunny morning in number four, Privet drive. The kind of morning that makes people want to lie on the grass or sit in the garden with a nice cup of coffee. Harry Potter was no exception. Unfortunately, he was not as lucky as most other people in Privet Drive.

"Up!" screeched Petunia Dursley, rapping sharply on the door of the cupboard that her nephew had slept in for the past ten years. "Well, almost ten years," thought Harry. Not that he had been counting, of course.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he could stay asleep with her screeching like a barn owl.

"Yes, I'll be right there," h e replied.

"Well get on with it, you need to make breakfast."

Harry rolled out of bed in disappointment; he had been having a fascinating dream. Strangely, he couldn't quite remember what it was about. He usually remembered everything he dreamt about, like they were memories instead of dreams.

He took a deep breath when he came out of his cupboard. Even though the period of confinement to his cupboard for his trick at the zoo had ended quite a while back, he still relished the fresh air that assaulted him when he came out in the mornings.

He sauntered merrily into the kitchen, stopping himself before any of the Dursleys saw him. There was no need to jinx his day.

Flip. Flip again. Toss. Cube of butter. Serve.

Harry quickly got accustomed to the familiar rhythm of flipping pancakes. Quickly making the pancakes, he turned off the stove and took a seat at the table to eat his gourmet breakfast of bread and cheese. Halfway through his meal, he heard the sliding of letters through the mail slot.

"Get the post, Boy," said Uncle Vernon from between a forkful of pancakes in a rather disgusting way.

Sighing, he got up and walked to the backdoor where the letters where lying on the floor. There were three. That wasn't unusual, or so he thought.

He picked them up and flipped through them, walking toward the table to give them to Uncle Vernon. Wait a second, he froze. He stared at the name on the envelope. Written in emerald-green ink, it said,

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry quickly tossed it into his cupboard and holding the remaining two, walked into the kitchen, hoping no one would notice something amiss. He handed the letters to Uncle Vernon and flopped down in his chair to finish the rest of his bread and cheese.

Harry gulped in down as fast as he could, eager to look at his letter. He had to slow down quite a bit when he noticed his aunt and uncle looking at him suspiciously but he managed to finally shut himself in his cupboard to open the letter.

He fingered the yellowish envelope, slightly hesitant to open it. It wasn't everyday he got a letter. Steeling himself, he gently pried open the wax seal. Two pieces of parchment fell out. Harry picked one from the top and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First class, Grand Sorc., , Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We will await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

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_**I'd be real grateful if you clicked that review button over there.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you Cassandra30 for being my first (and only) reviewer till date. _**

**_Italics = Thoughts_**

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Questions erupt in Harry's mind. Magic doesn't exist; everyone knows that. Yet, in his hand, he holds a letter that clearly states that 'yes, magic does exist and you have it in you.' He supposed it _did_ explain all the weird things that kept happening to him- like when he set Dudley's hair on fire, and when he turned his teacher's hair blue. Most of them had something to do with hair. Strange.

"No stop!" he told himself, "There's a logical explanation for all for this. There has to be!"

He looked at the letter again. It said to 'find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.'

"I guess it wouldn't hurt…"

He unfolded the other piece of parchment:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)

COURSE BOOKS

All students must have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

Wand

Cauldron (pewter, standard size two) set

Glass or crystal phials

Telescope set

Brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad. Familiars, if any, may be brought.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._  
_

_There is no way I can get all this in London. That is, if all this even exists. According to this, I'm supposed to send a letter of acceptance by owl. How on Earth am I going to get an _owl, _of all things?_

Harry's mind swirled with thoughts. He could, obviously, write the letter. It was sending it that was the problem. He made up his mind. He would write the letter and hang on to it, just in case he was able to hold of an owl. He snuck out of is cupboard to the living room and grabbed a ballpoint pen from one of his uncle's pen stands. Chewing the end of his pen, he started writing in his best handwriting:

_Professor McGonagall,_

_I would be delighted to attend Hogwarts this upcoming year. However, I am a little lost on how to get there and where I can get all my supplies. I don't know if I can pay for all of this. A little help would be much appreciated.  
Yours sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

It looked official enough; Harry nodded to himself in satisfaction. Now all he had to do was send it. He sighed. It was easier said than done. He had no way of obtaining an owl. Oh well, he would hang on to it until he found a way.

Tucking it into the pocket of one of Dudley's old trousers, he poked his head through the door before cautiously coming out and running out of the front door before anyone had a chance to stop him. He took great pride on the fact that he could run faster than anyone else on his street.

Harry ran around the corner and finally stopped to catch his breath. You could never be too careful around Privet Drive, who knew when his snot nosed neighbors were watching. Dudley and his friends hated him and everyone was scared of Dudley. This meant that he had no friends as no one wanted to disagree with Dudley's gang.

He walked down the familiar path to the woods. Whenever he needed to think or just be alone for a while, he would go to the woods opposite Privet Drive. As he entered the woods, he went straight to a thick gorse bush, pushed aside the thorns and jumped in. Thump. Harry landed on a soft clump of heather. He sighed in relief. Every time he came to his secret hideout, he had this slight fear that the heather wouldn't be there to break his fall.  
Getting up, he looked around. He stared in surprise at the other living being in the small grotto. A small orangey- red bird stared back at him, trilling in a melodious voice.

"Err… hello," Harry said. "No offense, but _what are you_?"

The bird stared at him, its black eyes unblinking.

"Right... Can I keep you?" He asked

The bird kept staring, as if it were reading his mind. Finally it nodded its head slowly.  
"Great!" Harry pumped his fist in the air. He turned around and cursed.

"Bugger!"

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**_And that's a wrap! Thanks for taking the time to read my fanfic. Kudos to you!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Hey guys. I'm sorry for not updating sooner but I'm really busy with school and everything, I've been getting heaps of assignments! So in any case, I just updated to let you know that I'm NOT abandoning this story. I apologize for the short chapter but I should be updating again soon. Thanks for taking the time to read my fanfic! Kudos!  
_**

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Usually, when Harry came to his little grotto, there was a little series of natural steps in the wall, for climbing back up. This time, however, he saw nothing but plain flat earth in front of him.

Harry groaned. What was he going to do? There was no way he could climb that wall like Spiderman.

"Think Harry, think," he told himself.

"Maybe that bird could fly out and do something."

He turned to look at the bird. "Can you fly?" he asked. The bird stared at him. Harry wished it would stop doing that. It was creepy.

The bird squawked at him and flapped its tiny wings... only to fall face front. Harry sweat dropped. That went well.

"I'm a wizard. I can do this," Harry took a deep breath.

"I wish to go out of this cave," said Harry loudly before looking around him in anticipation.

Nothing happened. He groaned. There went that idea. How in the name of Christ was he going to get out of here? Then it hit him. What about the time he flew up on top of a roof when Dudley was chasing him? He thought back on what he was thinking at that time; he wanted to get away from them so badly, then he felt a slight tingling feeling somewhere in his body and the next thing he knew he was on the roof.

"So all I have to do is concentrate, right?" said Harry out loud.

That sounded easy. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in concentration. He wanted- no, he HAD to get out of there. For a few minutes nothing happened then, all of a sudden, he felt himself rise up in the air. He concentrated harder on going upward, and a few seconds later, his feet touched the ground.

Harry opened his eyes, not realizing that he had kept them clenched shut all this time. He looked around to find himself safely out of the grotto. He peered in and mentally slapped himself. He had forgotten all about the bird! The bird trilled. Then it flapped its wings and flew up and out of the grotto.

Harry gaped, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. He glared at it accusingly.

"You lied!" he accused.

The trill it gave in reply sounded suspiciously like laughter to Harry.

He shook his head and started walking down the path that lead back to Privet Drive, the bird following him. It hopped on his shoulder and made itself comfortable. As he made his way leisurely back, Harry started talking to the bird.


End file.
